Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: bob weir (Page 52 of 198)

Together Again, Again

“Are you back in the band?”

“Just siting in, Bob.”

“The kid’s working out, but if you want in, then say the word.”

“I got plans this summer. We’re playing the Garden.”

“When?”

“This summer. We’re gonna start playing Memorial Day and end on Labor Day.”

“Wow. Do you wanna borrow Red Metal Stool?”

“I’d rather have a seat that wasn’t sentient.”

“It’s not optimal. He’s a bit of a whiner.”

“You could just buy a normal one, Bob.”

“Not the Grateful Dead way, Troy.”

“Sure. Hey, you wanna play a Lady Gaga song?”

“You bet.”

Once You Pop

This is 6/18/67 at the Monterey Fairgrounds. I don’t know if I’ve listened to it; I will now, though. This show was the Monterey Pop Festival, legendary for its unlegendariness (at least as far as the Dead goes). The Boys were scheduled in between The Who (beginning a long inter-band relationship) and Jimi Hendrix (beginning his and Bobby’s best friendship); both acts put on high-volume shows punctuated by instrument destruction, arson, and explosives. In the face of such showmanship, the Dead countered by standing there and playing Viola Lee for 14 minutes.

They also refused to be filmed for the movie, which gives them a perfect record for avoiding being in iconic Rock Films: Monterey Pop, Woodstock, Gimme Shelter. Dead missed ’em all by thaaaat much.

There’s Always One More

Here you go, Enthusiasts: this is my contribution. Previously, there were three pictures of Bobby in various stages of bunnification; now there are four. (I always figure if I haven’t seen a photo, then most haven’t. If that comes across as arrogant, well: consider the topic. It’s like bragging about Magic the Gathering. And plus I didn’t even claim to be the best at it, so it’s like bragging about coming in sixth at a Magic the Gathering tournament.)

The Grateful Dead, Younger Enthusiasts, didn’t do a lot of teevee. Possibly because the first time they were booked on a show, Playboy After Dark in 1969, they ended up dosing the entire building. But it also makes sense: there weren’t too many televised venues for any rock music back then. There was Ed Sullivan in the 1960’s, and the Smothers Brothers for a year or two, but after that the opportunities dried up. Pop stars were all over the dial, obviously, but not rock. Johnny Carson didn’t book bands at all until much later in his run. There was Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert, and that was about it.

And then, in 1975, came Saturday Night Live. They had rock bands on, good ones and wild ones and sometimes things would go terribly wrong, which was horribly entertaining, and they had very hip taste. Tom Waits was on in 1977, and Sun Ra in ’78. The first four musical guests in ’78 were the Stones, Devo, Frank Zappa, and Van Morrison. (Zappa was actually the host, and that went precisely as well as you’d assume. It turns out that “doing sketch comedy with stoners” wasn’t in Frank’s toolbox; he and the cast hated each other by the end of the week.)

Week five was the Dead. The comedy writers Al Franken (who is now a Senator) and Tom Davis (who is now dead) were massive Deadheads and lobbied Lorne Michaels to book the band. He didn’t want to–the Dead were not very cool at the time, and certainly not Lorne Michaels’ New York-centric version of cool–but one has to believe that Al Franken can wear you down. Lorne must have liked them because he had them back the following year, and even let Billy be in a sketch.

Look:

Told you.

Contrary to Frank’s Zappa’s surliness, the Dead are affable fellows (and Mrs. Donna Jean) and made friends with the cast; Belushi and Ackroyd would do their Blues Brothers routine at Winterland with the band the night they closed the place down.

Phil may or may not have gone to town on Lorraine Newman.

Spent A Little Time On The Hill

Sometimes I find stuff on the innertubes that not many people have seen, and I get excited, but then sometimes I wait a day to post it, and someone’s put it up on Reddit already.

No one suffers like I do.

OR

From out of nowhere: raccoon.

“Hey, bring those back.”

“Ickickick.”

“Do you know Mickey?”

OR

I’m half Bobby’s age and can’t get into that position.

That’s Mayor Rando To You

What is this?

“I got the, uh, key to the city of San Antonio.”

Wow. Congratulations, Bobby.

“Yeah. Real nice. Lemme ask you something.”

It doesn’t open every door in San Antonio.

“Ah. What about cars?”

It will not start any car in San Antonio. The key to the city is entirely symbolic. It comes from when cities had walls. You would give a visiting dignitary the key to show that he wasn’t being held hostage.

“I don’t think the mayor is gonna kidnap me.”

You seem more baffled than usual.

“I can’t think in pants.”

Oh, no, not pants.

“Yeah, look.”

“Pants.”

Those are pants.

“It’s like my ankles are in jail.”

Okay.

“More key to the city questions.”

Shoot.

“Can I commit crime?”

Yes.

“Really?”

Key to the city grants you immunity up to aggravated assault. You could mug someone or drive drunk.

“Huh. Good to know. Is it only good for San Antonio?”

Key to the city, Bobby.

“Just checking. is there a keyring to the city?”

No.

“That’s a bit thoughtless.”

True.

(EDIT: It has been pointed out that Bobby is receiving the key to Austin, not San Antonio. The Management’s stance is that the misidentification  was an intentional joke based upon the premise “Bobby doesn’t know where he is,” instead of a sloppy mistake by the dumbass writing it.)

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